Unlike Poles
by arabmorgan
Summary: She's way out of his league, but he wants her anyway. AU.
1. One

**Unlike Poles **| _One_

When Kiba first sees her, there's music blasting.

She's sitting alone at the bar, an untouched drink before her. She keeps lifting a hand to flick her dark bangs out of her eyes, and it is the flash of silver at her wrist that first catches his eye, that makes him focus and give her the customary once-over.

His eyes travel over the short skirt, makeup, glittering fingernails. Only the conservative sweater wrapped around her slender shoulders throws him off, sets her apart from the usual chicks that draw him in.

Well, it will be nice to talk to a _non_-slutty girl for once. With a smirk, Kiba saunters over, taking the seat next to her and calling for a drink, sitting back and waiting for her to check him out.

Her pale gaze darts to his face, down to his body, his face, and back to the crowd. A flash of irritation passes through him at the aura of disinterest she exudes, as if her poise and good breeding counts in a place like _this_.

"Hey, you all alone tonight, kitten?" he drawls, letting loose a slightly feral smile, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the counter.

She turns fully to look at him, studying him, her expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "Hello," she says coolly, a small tilting her lips as she appraises him. She doesn't make any move to touch him, to lean forward to bare her cleavage, to engage in some dirty talk; her smile suggests polite interest and nothing more.

She holds out her hand, a gesture completely out of place in the dancing, sweaty crowd of young people. "I'm Hinata."

For the first time, he notices the calluses on his hands, the bitten fingernails, the dark tan of his skin next to the glowing white of hers. He takes it as a challenge—Kiba _loves _challenges.

"I'm Kiba." His smile widens in surprise at the firm grip of her soft hand, amused by the look of distrust that flits across her face. But he is caught up in her voice—sweet, high, confident. The kind of confident that suggests she is actually nervous as hell and trying to keep her voice from shaking.

_How cute_.

"Don't come here often, do you, Hinata?" Kiba keeps his voice carefully casual, employing the _I-don't-give-a-damn_ drawl that always brings girls flocking. He already knows what her answer will be though. It's obvious close-up; one look at the uneasy way she continually smoothens her short skirt and her wide-eyed looks at the noisy, excited people around her tells him what he wants to know.

"Not really, I'm just here with some of my friends." Her laugh is embarrassed, and she keeps fiddling with her fingers rather annoyingly.

Kiba nods absently as his focus drifts to her glossy, enticing lips; how she will look like without that sweater; how she will _feel_ without anything on at all. He smirks at the thought, swiveling his chair so he is facing the bar, staring aimlessly at his almost-empty glass as he gradually loses interest in this pretty but too-proper girl sitting beside him.

Kiba doesn't even _like _shy girls anyway. He greatly prefers the confident, shameless ones who grind their hips against him when they dance and fall on him when they're drunk and follow him back to his house, making out the whole time. He's good at sweet talking, but these girls don't require actual conversation, which is a pretty much a necessity for a guy who refuses to commit.

Movement at the corner of his eye makes him turn. Kiba watches, amused, as Hinata slips off the stool and dithers for a bit, clearly torn about how to reach the exit of the club. Her steps are hesitant as she edges along the side of the building, keeping close to the walls, shying away from close contact with anyone.

Kiba follows the dark-haired girl out, his interest renewing at her amusing awkwardness. He shoves roughly past drunken guys with groping hands, tipsy girls with half-lidded eyes, not even noticing the familiar smell of sweat and sex thick in the air. He decides that maybe he kind of likes her after all; she's such a _novelty_, a high-class little girl in such a sleazy nightclub.

He wonders if she'll be different—_special_—in bed. Or maybe all women are the same once you get them hot and bothered, eager to please and always begging for more.

"Hey, where're you off too, kitten?" He lays a hand on her shoulder, making her squeak. "Sure you know your way around here? It's pretty darn dangerous some nights."

Her eyes shine in the light of the moon as she stares up at him and stiffens under his grip. "I'll be fine, thank you," she replies politely, taking a few steps back so that his hand slides off her shoulder.

"I'm serious, y'know. All those rapists and muggers, they love places like this, and they love defenseless little girls even more," Kiba reiterates irritably, his smile twisting momentarily into a grimace. He just wants a reaction, to ruffle this composed girl, to prove him wrong, that not all filthy rich kids think they're so much better than everyone else.

"That's quite alright," she repeats, taking another step back. "I'll call my driver to pick me up."

Now genuinely annoyed, Kiba sneers and shrugs. "Just trying to help, alright? Guess I'll see you around, _Hinata_." He spits her name out condescendingly, as if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Rejection of any sort doesn't sit well with a self-proclaimed ladies' man like him.

Without waiting for a response, he stalks away, already on the prowl for another girl who will appreciate his loving more.

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**A/N: This is a three-parter and I've already finished writing it, so updates will come quickly. Thoughts, crits and reviews are much appreciated! :3**


	2. Two

**Unlike Poles **| _Two_

Hinata is looking rather the worse for wear when they next meet.

Kiba sees her right where they last parted, outside the nightclub, sitting with her back against the concrete wall with a fresh puddle of vomit not far away. Even from a distance, he can see her shuddering as she continues to cough and heave.

"I can't believe you're even _legal_. How much did you drink?" He crouches next to her, intending to rub the matter in more, but her pitiful hiccups and huge eyes destroy the intention. Kiba has a soft spot for dogs—having lived with at least seven over twenty years—and Hinata simply reminds him too much of an awfully sad puppy at that very moment. Sighing, he swings her into his arms in one smooth motion.

"My friends are inside," she mutters feebly, sniffling slightly, the discomfort plain on her face.

Kiba rolls his eyes. "And you want to meet them covered in vomit? I live walking distance from here, you can wash up and meet your friends back here. What do you say, kitten?"

Hinata blinks up at him in surprise and quietly assents; he supposes she's just a little tipsy or she wouldn't be so trusting. Truthfully, Kiba has surprised himself too—he'll admit readily that he's not the nicest guy in terms of caring for his female partners; heck, he can count on his fingers the number of times he's bothered to see the woman in his bed safely home.

And here he is bringing this pale-eyed girl to his house with the intention of letting her _shower_, not to rip off her clothes and push her on his bed and have his way with her. It's odd, even to him, that he hates snobby little rich girls, yet one is bringing out the best in him. He supposes it's the whole helpless damsel-in-distress thing that gets him.

God, he's such a _sucker_ for helpless girls.

OoOoO

Kiba's house isn't much. In fact, it's quite the dump, with clothes strewn about and dirty dishes stacked haphazardly on the dining table. Hinata's eyes widen at the state of the house and she casts a nervous glance at Kiba's face, but he gives her a reassuring grin and pulls her further in. His white shepherd, Akamaru, bounds up to the duo, barking excitedly and pawing at Kiba before sniffing at a nervous Hinata with vigor.

Leaving Hinata to shower in peace, Kiba lies down on the couch to wait, but promptly falls asleep. He has a short, confusing dream about being locked in a cell with Hinata by his mother, while the hoard of girls he's slept with snarl and rage, trying to reach through the bars for him. It's about then that he jerks awake, more confused than disturbed, just as Hinata pads quietly into the living room.

She's in one of his smaller shirts—which still hangs rather despondently on her slender frame and reaches to mid-thigh—and a pair of running shorts, since anything of his without the elastic band around the waist would literally fall off her anyway. Her dark hair is damp, hanging over one shoulder and darkening the shirt where it rests. She seems more at ease now, and Kiba can't help but think that she looks like she's just showered after sex.

"Thanks for letting me use your shower," she murmurs, staring awkwardly at the floor at her feet.

Kiba shrugs nonchalantly. "No problem. You're gonna meet your friends, aren't you? Come on, I'll walk you back." Taking her half-open mouth as agreement, he gets to his feet and stretches, then guides her out of the house with a hand on the small of her back.

The walk back is pleasant enough, and Kiba finds that Hinata is capable of making good conversation as long as she's not completely terrified. She mentions that she's being groomed to be her father's successor in her family's company, so she's been making a point to visit all the buildings Hyuga Corp has a stake in , including this particular nightclub. Kiba can't say he's genuinely surprised at the news, but it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth again, and along with it the sardonic thought that he'll probably be sued if he tries anything on this little lady.

He still gives her his number though, "in case you ever need another shower at a hot guy's place".

Kiba leaves her with three other girls in varying states of drunkenness: a rather hot blonde, a cool chick with pastel pink hair, and a cursing brunette with her hair in two buns. Kiba looks at them approvingly, liking how they're bad-ass enough to make up for Hinata's reticence, how they'll be able to protect her from bastards like him. Not to mention he'd bang any one of them any day.

"I'll see you around then, kitten." With a last pat on her shoulder, Kiba turns to leave. A smile grows on his face when he hears Hinata's quiet "goodbye" and one of her friend's loud exclamation of "he's pretty cute, where did you find him!" Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he resists the urge to look back and strides away.

* * *

**A/N: One more part left after this! Would you guys prefer some fluff or no? :3**


	3. Three

**Unlike Poles **| _Three_

Out of place is not a feeling Kiba is accustomed to, and he doesn't like it.

The tie around his neck, the soft glow of the chandeliers, the politely murmuring crowd, the soothing classical music in the background—it's an environment entirely at odds with the night scene he so often frequents.

He's convinced every damn person in this place is _staring_, willing him to go back to where he comes from—where the paint is peeling off the walls of his flat, where he earns his living under the unforgiving sun, where his nights of sinful revelry remind him that life is worth living. It pisses him off that all these "ladies and gentlemen" can judge _him _so easily when they live in the lap of luxury each day.

"Kiba, don't be so tense; no one's watching." Hinata's tentative whisper snaps Kiba back to the current situation, which is admittedly not entirely unpleasant. He can't claim to have prior experience in waltzing, or slow dancing, or whatever it is they're doing, but the mere fact that his arm is around Hinata's waist and they're less than two inches from each other is oddly thrilling.

"I swear, your father must have warned all of them to ostracize me," he hisses back. "Oh, and I find it hard to believe I'm your only male friend who you can rely on when you need a date for a fancy dinner." He quirks an eyebrow at her in amusement.

Hinata shrugs, looking very pretty—and desirable, Kiba must add, approving of the exposed cleavage—in her off-shoulder, pale purple gown. "I don't have many male friends at all," she explains, smiling somewhat apologetically.

"I mean, I'd understand if you called me because I'm your _hottest _male friend, but hearing that you chose me because you had no other choice isn't very flattering," Kiba teases, hoping to elicit that appealing half-smile from her again.

It's ridiculous, really, the effect this nervous little thing has on him. Maybe it's because she's so different from the women he usually encounters—not brainless, or loose, or desperate. Or maybe opposites attract, and they _are _opposites in every sense of the word. Whatever it is, Hinata is about the only person in the room Kiba doesn't hate with an admittedly unjustified passion.

Kiba sighs inwardly. Rationalizing has never been his strong suit; he'll go by instinct, just as he always has.

OoOoO

"So how did you meet Hinata?"

Not a very difficult question, but Kiba swallows nervously, suddenly very conscious of his arm draped casually over Hinata's shoulder's and the proximity of her body to his. His discomfort magnifies hundredfold when he meets the unnervingly sharp eyes of Hyuga Hiashi.

"She was checking out one of your company buildings and I was inside, so we started talking," Kiba replies, managing to keep a perfectly straight face even though he actually means "I tried to chat her up". Beside him, Hinata's pleasant smile doesn't waver in the slightest and she looks completely comfortable with the fact that he's being _attacked-interrogated-brought down without mercy _by her father.

"Then when she got kinda sick, I let her shower in my house and walked her back," Kiba explains cheerfully—then he catches Hiashi's sudden stiffening. "But I didn't _do _anything! I just fell asleep while she bathed, and had a weird dream, but I honestly didn't peek at her or anything!" His laugh is obviously forced and he moves on anxiously.

"Yeah, the rest of our meetings were just normal talking and stuff, because I happen to go to that building your company owns a lot." Kiba offers up an innocent smile. "And we went out for dinner a few times, just friendly dinners!"

"Well," Hiashi says slowly, as if assessing Kiba's value, "if my daughter comes to any harm, be very afraid, young man." Then he turns away to speak to another pale-eyed man, but not before—Kiba _swears _it happened—smiling very faintly at Hinata.

The moment he's gone, Hinata drags Kiba out onto the balcony for some air, her face steadily darkening. "He thinks we're going out, like _dating_!" She sounds absolutely mortified, but he takes it as a good sign that she hasn't let go of his wrist yet.

"It's not a bad idea, kitten." The words slip out, all casual-like, but Kiba is suddenly as tense as a coiled spring. The light from the ballroom illuminates Hinata's face softly, so he can clearly see as her expression shifts from utter confusion to sudden surprise.

She looks up at him, wary again. "What's not a bad idea?" Her voice is just a whisper, filled with doubt.

Kiba takes her hand in his, and despite his smile, it's a tremendous effort to keep his voice from wavering. "You and me, that's what. It's totally cheesy, but you make me want to be a better person, to make you happy. You're special, I knew that the first time I saw you. I just want to protect you, and- heck, I'm not good at this shit, but maybe you could give us a chance. I'm not rich and I don't have the best track record with long-term relationships, and my mind is _always _in the gutter, but I'm _really _serious about this. I can envision us being permanent, y'know?"

Hinata is silent for a heartbeat before a muffled giggle slips out of her. "Was that a confession?" Then she bursts into tears and throws herself into Kiba's arms.

"Was _that_ an okay?" Kiba asks, feeling bewildered. "Don't cry, kitten." He rests his chin on the top of her head and is stroking her hair when she nods once, quickly, against his chest.

Kiba lets out a huge breath, unable to stop a grin from forming, and leans down to whisper in her ear. "We'll make this work, alright? The both of us, 'cos I kinda love you."

Hinata giggles at the brush of air against her ear, suddenly turning to press her lips lightly against Kiba's cheek in one swift motion. Almost immediately, her cheeks turn pink again.

Her makeup is all but ruined and the front of his suit is wet with her tears, but they step away from the balcony and back into the light together, hand-in-hand.

* * *

**A/N: Err lame ending, I know...well, I tried xD What did you think? :3**


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